Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(90)

“What do you mean?” Colette asked. “Weird, how?”

“There’ve been all kinds of government agents here the last couple of days.”

Colette closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Do you have any idea what they were looking for?” Another thought hit her. Maybe Christian didn’t want to be found. Maybe his disappearance was all part of some escape plan to avoid prosecution in the States. It made sense, and yet Colette couldn’t make herself accept it. He’d told her he was coming back, asked her to wait. He would never have done that if he’d planned to disappear.

Jenny sighed. “The agents talked to several people but not to anyone I know well, otherwise I would’ve asked what it’s all about. As you can imagine, the office has been buzzing, but it’s hard to tell which rumors have any basis in truth and which don’t.”

“Would you phone me if you hear anything new?” Colette asked.

“I would if I had your number,” Jenny said tartly. “You never answered my question. How come you disappeared like that?”

“I…needed a change.”

“Of friends, too, it seems.”

“I’m sorry, Jenny, it was just…too much. Do you understand?”

“Why are you so interested in what happened to Mr. Dempsey?”

“I worked for him for five years. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Okay, okay. Give me a number where I can reach you.”

Colette rattled off her cell phone number. After thanking Jenny and agreeing to get together when this was all over, she replaced the receiver.

Elizabeth stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. “What did you learn?” she asked.

Colette told her what little she knew, but she kept her own suspicions—and the part about the government agents—to herself.

Christian’s great-aunt seemed to be more in control of her emotions now. “I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do other than pray,” she said. She looked older and frailer.

“Let’s have a cup of tea,” Colette suggested. “My mother told me everything seems better after tea.”

Elizabeth favored her with a smile. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

“Yes, she is,” Colette said. “I’ve missed her very much since my parents moved to Colorado.”

Elizabeth headed back into the library. “I’d be honored if you’d consider me family,” she murmured after slowly lowering herself into her chair.

“Then I will,” Colette told her.

“Will you stay?” Elizabeth asked.

“Of course.”

“Until we know?” she added. “I don’t think my heart can deal with more bad news.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Colette promised. Her own heart couldn’t take any more bad news, either.

CHAPTER 33

Alix Townsend

Jordan’s parents had invited Alix and Jordan to a barbecue at their home on Sunday afternoon. Hoping to patch things up with her future mother-in-law, Alix had readily accepted. She made a bowl of potato salad and baked a rhubarb cake, one of Jordan’s favorites.

Alix looked forward to being part of the Turner family, which she’d always seen as a delightful bonus to marrying Jordan. It was invitations such as this backyard barbecue that she’d longed for as a child. If her parents had friends over it was so they could drink together. What food there was on those occasions came from a fast-food joint.

When the kids at school talked about camping trips and picnics, Alix had nothing to say. Not once in the entire time she was growing up had she walked through the woods or experienced a family outing.

Her fantasy family in the closet did all those things, though, and that was where Alix laughed and played and escaped.

Jordan picked her up before church and placed the salad in a cooler he’d brought in his trunk.

“That cake doesn’t happen to be rhubarb, does it?” he asked, eyeing the glass dish hopefully.

“It might.”

Grinning, he settled his arm around her shoulders. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I must,” she returned. He’d been teasing but she was entirely serious. She’d never been this happy, never known she could be. It still astonished her that this very special man could see past the gruff exterior she’d maintained a few years ago, when she was working at the video store. That was where they’d reconnected. She would be forever thankful for his persistence and his ability to recognize the real Alix Townsend beneath the spike-haired, leather-jacketed tough girl she’d been back then. Come to think of it, though, her appearance hadn’t changed that much….

Today, however, in deference to his parents, she wore a straight khaki skirt, plain white blouse and ballet-style flats.

After church, Jordan drove to his parents’ house in south Seattle. His father, Larry, was a pastor at the Free Methodist Church there. The parsonage was next door, a brick, single-family home built in the 1950s, long before either Jordan or Alix was born. The front lawn had recently been mowed and Alix could see a thin line of smoke spiraling from the backyard.

“Looks like Dad’s already got the barbecue going,” Jordan said as he led the way into the house. “Less work for me.” He didn’t knock, but opened the front door and walked in, calling out as he did. “Mom, Dad! We’re here.”